


Huntin' For Your Touch

by YXxXxXY



Series: FFXV Requests [10]
Category: FFXV - Fandom
Genre: F/M, Female Reader, hunter! reader - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-25
Updated: 2020-06-25
Packaged: 2021-03-04 03:55:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24907219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YXxXxXY/pseuds/YXxXxXY
Relationships: Prompto Argentum/Reader
Series: FFXV Requests [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1797337
Kudos: 9





	Huntin' For Your Touch

  
  


Prompto didn’t get it. Whenever he was around Cindy, he’d be a bumbling mess, but around you ... he almost felt  _ normal _ . He didn’t stumble over his words, he didn’t make a fool of himself. But in a way, speaking with you was more nerve-wracking than speaking with Cindy. You  _ were  _ a hunter, after all, and you’d have no problem kicking his scrawny ass.

Maybe that’s why he never told you. Maybe that’s why he’ll never get the chance to.

***

When he first met you, it was during their trip to Altissia, shortly after the fall of Insomnia. When they had met Cor at Keycatrich Trench, you had been there, standing at the Immortal’s side. More than anything, the gunman was curious who you were -- you didn’t look like a member of the Crownsguard, but you weren’t just some random civilian, either, if the weapons strapped to your sides were anything to go by. It wasn’t until the boys, Cor, and Monica took down the Imperial blockade that he learned you were a relative of the Immortal.

*

“Hey, um, not to be rude or anything, but who are you?” Prompto approached you cautiously. As he got closer, he noticed a small scar running across the bridge of your nose. It was faint; he hadn’t noticed it when he first saw you because it was so faded. It must’ve been pretty old.

“(Y/n),” you responded, giving the blond a quick once over before going back to maintaining your short swords. “And you’re not being rude, Prompto. It’s natural to be curious about a stranger.”

“How do you know my name?” his blue-violet eyes narrowed on you for a split second. Heaving a sigh, you placed your swords off to the side and directed your attention to him.

“Cor talks about you a lot, y’know,” you answered. You took in his reaction -- his brows furrowing and his face scrunching in confusion -- before you continued. “He thinks of you like a son. He’s proud of you.”

_ Prouder than me, at least. _ That’s what your expression said, and the gunslinger frowned -- not something he did too often. But he didn’t get the chance to say anything as you grabbed your weapons and walked away.

Prompto swore he heard you sniff.

***

The next time he saw you was in Old Lestallum. You had joined Dave on his hunt for dog tags. At that time, you had gained more scars across your hands and one that split your lower lip. Considering it had only been a few weeks -- a month, at most -- since you had last seen one another, Prompto couldn’t help but wonder what the older hunter was having you doing.

“Dave,” you had called for the older man as soon as you had seen the Regalia pull into the small town. It wasn’t all too long after that you were joining the four men in their search for some missing tags.

That day happened to be when Prompto realized something: he cared for you, deeply. In a more than platonic way.

That also happened to be the day that you were seriously injured while protecting Noctis.

*

“Noctis!” your shout rang across the battlefield. It had caught Prompto’s attention immediately, and when he turned he saw a Magitek Assassin charging his best friend. For his name’s meaning, Prompto wasn’t ready at all. Noct was in stasis after having defeated multiple assassins at once, and he could barely move. He was just a second too slow to raise his gun, and it only took that single second.

Prompto watched as you collapsed to your knees, a short sword jammed through the assassin that had targeted Noct. But what made his blood run cold was the blade sticking out of your back. He could only be a bystander as the assassin disintegrated, it’s blade staying where you had been impaled -- just below your right collarbone. His hands started shaking, his gun dematerializing as Ignis and Gladio rushed to their king’s side, as well as yours.

You were a hunter. You hadn’t taken an oath to protect him, yet you had risked your life for Noct. It was enough to shake each of the men to their cores, seeing someone that was basically a complete stranger try to protect the Lucian heir.

It was Prompto’s job to call Cor, to tell him what had happened. It wasn’t even a few hours later that the Immortal was in Lestallum, clutching your hand as fear made itself known on his face. In all the time Prompto had known the marshall, not once could he remember him looking so distraught -- especially over the possibility of someone dying.

Prompto learned another thing that day; he learned just how closely you and Cor were related.

*

“Please, (Y/n),” Cor’s voice trembled as he grasped at your cold hands. “You can’t leave me, too.”

Prompto stood off to the corner of the room, guilt weighing heavily in his heart.

_ If I had just been two seconds faster, then-- _

“D-Dad…?” voice crackling, your (e/c) hues met Cor’s, fear evident in them. The marshall’s grip tightened around your hand in response, trying to calm you. Tears welled in your eyes at the sight of the man and you turned onto your side as you sobbed. “Dad…”

***

After that, Prompto didn’t see you until the darkness had already set in. And when you saw Noct wasn’t with the retinue when they came back, it was Prompto that had cried with you.

Since you had almost died protecting the prince, you had grown close to each of them, but with Noct in particular. He seemed like a brother to you, and the fact that he hadn’t come home from Gralea broke you.

Not that you had been overly cheerful before they had left, you became a husk, only doing what was needed to survive and nothing more. And Prompto was with you the whole way, trying to make you smile. Or at least make you forget, for even a second, that Noct was gone. It was really for the both of you -- Prompto missed the prince more than anyone else. He hadn’t just lost a king back in Gralea, he had lost his best friend.

***

You and Prompto had grown close over the past seven years. There wasn’t a single day that you two went without one another. You two had become each other’s crutch in the absence of Noctis. 

You had both changed in that time. Where once you had had long (h/c) hair, you had to cut it because of the absurd number of hunts you’d go on on a daily basis -- and washing daemons guts from long hair was a less than enjoyable affair. Prompto had done something similar, cutting back the fringe that used to fall in front of his right eye when he was twenty. Like every other hunter alive, you two looked tired, and neither of you could remember the last time you had gotten any  _ real _ sleep.

Currently, you were sitting in the plastic patio furniture in front of the caravan in Hammerhead, trying to get any sleep your body would allow. You had just come back from a particularly nasty hunt that left you more exhausted than it should have. Just as you had begun to get comfy, a sound had you alert once more.

You shot up from your chair, head swivelling as you tried to pinpoint where the sound was coming from. But it proved difficult; even after relocating several times, you couldn’t determine its origin. It was only because you had thrown your head back in frustration that you saw Prompto sitting on the roof of the caravan. Your brows knitted together as they met his form. One leg was pulled into his chest while the other dangled off the caravan, and his head was buried in his arms.

Had it been any darker, you wouldn’t have seen slight tremor in the blond’s shoulders. Worried for your partner, you were quick to scale the trailer and sit next to the man that had become an unlikely friend.

“Prompto, you good?” At your voice, Prompto’s body tensed. You were sure of it now; the man had been crying. He sniffled, rubbing at his eyes before meeting yours. He gave you a smile, one that didn’t reach his eyes.

“Yeah. I’m fine, don’t worry,” he said. He yelped when you pinched at his ear, tugging slightly.

“Bullshit,” you seethed. On more than one occasion, you had found the usually happy-go-lucky blond crying,, and each time he had brushed off your concerns. But you wouldn’t let him, not this time. “I’ve known you far too long for that smile to work on me. You need to focus, Prompto. We have a hunt in a few hours, and I don’t want either of us getting hurt because you were stuck inside your head.”

Your words had come out harsher than intended, and you regretted it immediately when the blond’s face fell. You quickly replaced your scowl with a frown and cupped his face in your hands.

“You’ve always helped me out. Why won’t you let me help you?” you whispered, watching as his eyes went wide and his face turned red. “At least, let me try to help you? Please?”

Prompto nodded slowly, and your lips turned upwards slightly.

“What can I do, Prom?” It was the first time you had given him a nickname in the seven years you had known him, and he was shell-shocked. Your smile fell as you watched him, waiting for a response.

It was quick, and it left you wondering just how long he had wanted to do it. His gloved hands pulled your face to his, pressing his chapped lips to yours.

“Just stay with me? Please?” his voice was small, quieter than a whisper as he pleaded with you.

“Always.”

***

“Prom.” You could barely speak, the pain becoming too much. Your body shook like a leaf as you coughed, and Prompto was quick to pull you into his arms, pressing a hand to your bloodied side.

“C’mon, (Y/n). Stay awake, please. Tears spilled from his blue-violet eyes, landing on your cheek. “Just stay awake for a bit longer. You’ll be fine.”

Hand shaking, you reached up to touch his cheek, giving him a sad smile. Your fingers carded through the blond strands before your palm settled on his cheek.

“Don’t stop, Prom,” you wheezed. “Don’t look back. Noct will need you when he gets back. Keep pushing forward, and everything will be okay.”


End file.
